28 THE SPECULUM.
Australian Studies.
LIFE AND DEATH.
Of Life, on Death upborne and feeding, Of Death, by Life concealed, and ceding The victory to Life—
Such is my song to-day.
I.
A valley deep, shut in among the hills,
Where harsh winds come not, and the winter's snow But seldom falls and stays not, where the rills
From all sides trickling join in gentle flow ; There day by day the sunlight softly hies,
Lulling the air in warm unbroken sleep.
The giant gums in bulk unmeasured rise,
With crowns of pendent leaves, that may not keep The bright rays back, but let them freely stream
Down to the depths, where, in luxuriant mass Transcending far the wonder-land of dream,
Beeches and myrtles blend with sassafras
And groves of fern-trees, tangling green with green In fond confusion, while the wattles stand Distinct in feathery grace and misty sheen.
But underneath the trees' i nwoven band, Hidden in secret realms of silent shade,
Life riots free. No stone nor jutting bank But has its ,coronal of moss, thick laid
In velvet richness, lush with moisture dank.
The thronging stems must each submit to raise A parasitic garb of tender green ;
And all around, the ferns in endless maze Of fairy curves fill the bewildering scene.
Immanent Life stands forth without a veil, Till in Her presence all our senses fail.
.
But in this valley, sun-bathed, windless, sweet, Death reigns as well as Life. 0 forest fair, What is the earth that lies about your roots ? Spoil of the past, ruin of trees that grew In times forgot, and crumbled back to dust.
Amid your ranks some linger dead and white, Safe from the sweep of every shattering storm.
Within the vale's recess Death works its will Triumphantly, oft wearing Life's gay dress.
Many a beech tree stands with branches stark, Dead long ago, yet clad with cloak of green, Staghorns and mosses long from it depending, Weird, sepulchral. Fern-trees numberless, Under their living fronds, wide-arching, keep 11, The shrivelled forms of those of years gone by, Close-hanging in the stillness, till some chance Brings them down rustling sadly, wellnigh dust Already. Many a massive stem, with moss Thick-coated, verdant, surely steadfast, set—
Image of Life unending,
110 At a touch totters, inly dead, decaying, But upright held, and fair and comely kept By Life's surpassing power.
Life, that plants Her roots in Death, and covers Death with Life, Enshrining it in beauty. Evermore
New generations feed upon the past,
The old dead past which oft upholds the new.
Strange scaffolding, so seeming strong, ample Support for tender growths in quiet time, But falling at a breath. Yet Life prevails, Life everlasting.
THE GIANT FOREST.
Forest of tree-trunks, Titans vast, aspiring, Airily clinibing into Heaven above us,
Each so enormous, six men scarce embrace you, But with your round boles, slowly tapering upward, Grandly colossal. First a messmate rugged,
Dark with bark perpetual. Then a mountain ash tree, With rough stem starting, soon becoming polished, Smooth, grey, shapely, towering ever highest.
Lightsome and graceful, here and there a white gum Rises in beauty, Queen of all the woodland.
So ye stand marshalled, gum trees they call you, Idly, for schoolboys pass you'by as worthless, Eucalypts too, though light your leafy crowns are, High up in heaven. ,
Out of rich gullies burgeoning upwards
Into the free air, where ye spread your branches, Catching each wind that blows across the mountain, Yet with your roots firm set in quiet valley, Deep in the rich soil, far from warring breezes : With fair growths round you, underwood of beeches
1907. THE SPECULUM. 31 Rising with old-world grace amid the forest ;
Fern trees with fronds that arch in fairy lightness, Decking with rich green all the glaucous landscape ; Ferns ,too, and mosses, strewn in rich abundance All round the stream which, pure as liquid crystal, Flows down beside you, now with gentle murmur Almost in silence, now with rippling laughter Filling the glad air.
So out of rich depths rise ye into Heaven, Manlike, heroic, after freedom seeking;
Rooted in hid homes, with fair forms round you, Clasped by them closely ; yet reaching upwards Into the wide air, glad to breast the breezes Fixing you firmer, strong to brave the stormy Winds of the winter. But, alas ! ye cannot Alway withstand them. Many a crown is missing, Many a tree falls, broken short and crashing Down with resistless mass into the valley.
Then, oh how vast the ruin all beneath it!
All the fair forms that grew beneath its branches Crushed or bedraggled. But the mighty forest Reeks not, unchanging.
A CONTRAST.
A hill by Jamieson in my memory dwells, Where years ago with one dear friend I stood Entranced. Southward Mount Terrible arose, Rugged and stern, a maze of rifted spurs, Black with dense forest. Fitting haunt indeed For savage race, living an abject life,
In darkness lost, and full of chilling fear Of all the dread unknown. But, as we turned, A wondrous scene before us lay outspread.
Bathed in soft light the valley onward ran Far to the North, with gentle curves, to end In a dim purple paradise of plain,
Hidden in mystery—the mystery
Of warmth and light, of faith and hope and love.
SUNSET.
'Twas evening on the Aberfeldy Spur. The sun
Sank behind Baw-Baw, 'whose far-spreading front became A dusky purple gloom, with spectral shadows marked And depths of darkness. But, above, the lofty crest
Glowed as a line of fire ; while, from behind, the light, Welling in floods, rose to the zenith, streaming down Before our eyes across the ridge, as though it were A ponderable thing, that made a radiant screen
Over the sombre mount ; which, veiled in deepening shade, Was hidden more by light, a mystic double robe.
But lower sank the sun, the gleam ing flood of light Receded. On the crest, the line of living fire Faded, faded and went, and mighty Baw-Baw stood Vast, shadowy, grey, against the violet sky.
SUNRISE.
The morning broke in utter calm, the sky Chill-blue and cloudless, every blade of grass Grey with its weight of dew. We sought the ridge, And waited for the sun. Far to the South A valley ran, wide-spreading, broken up By jutting hills. But all was hid beneath A sea of mist, whose motionless white waves Lay at our feet, while black-bro.wed peaks arose From out its depths. The lofty Eastern range Concealed the dawn, and Baw-Baw opposite Loomed darkly grey. Slowly the orient sky Warmed to a glow above the gleaming crests, But still the cloudy sea lay cold. Full soon A beam shot o'er our heads to Baw-Baw's heights, And then the sun leapt up, and straightway held Both heaven and earth. The billows of the mist In silver splendour shone, then melted slow, Evanishing. The morning glory passed, And Baw-Baw's face rose in the garish day, Grizzled with trees, all white and gaunt and dead.
THE LYRE BIRD.
In mountain forest, dense, almost untrod, 'Where trees enormous rise, and, underneath,
Luxuriant growth of bracken shoulder-high And reedy grass and many a fallen trunk Make endless tangle, strange it is to meet A little ring, a yard of ground all clear, No twig remaining, levelled, sanded smooth.
What is it, say, this lone prepared spot In midst of utter wilderness ? It is
The Lyre-bird's dancing ground. And, hark ! close
by,
1\flaY, 1907. THE SPECULUM.
Sheltered by bushes thick, they start their strain.
List to the long involved melody In which these kings of imitative art Have gathered all the notes—alas ! too few—
Of Austral woodland song. Now rippling on In sweetest warblings, now in ecstasy
Soaring to Heaven, now full of sad complaint, Now with weird laughter, jackass-like and grim.
At last they hear us, and away they go Low flying heavily ; and harshly sounds Their native cry, a scream, borne by the breeze.
As homeward we return, perchance we pass, Perched on some rock or buried in a bush, A nest compact of twigs, and deftly lined With silky moss, to give them soft retreat.
And in the eve, as quietly we sit
Close by the river side, ourselves made part Of the pervading silence, then perhaps Upon some log that spans the stream, a bird Will light, to pose and bow and strut in pride, Rejoicing in the long incurving plumes– - His single beauty—which have captive made The heart of faithful mate, that, unadorned And homely dressed in sable livery, Glories in all his feathered bravery.
But night falls fast. Away we now must hie, Leaving the placid stream, fair-fringed with trees, Soft-shadowed, with the day's last light
In broken radiance lingering on its breast, Leaving the bird, still standing proudly there, Presiding genius fit for such a scene.
THE LAUGHING JACKASS.
Kingfisher mighty, Snake-killer flighty, What a ridiculous hero you seem : Podgy and squat, no length but all beam, Owlish in wisdom, with broad-swelling breast, Ending nigh tail-less, you animate jest ; Beak so prodigious, an ill-balanced bird ;
Cumbrous in flight, A devil to fight,
Strangest old joker that ever was heard—
With a Hoo ! Hoo ! Hoo FIaha! Floohoo !
L.